Catching Fire
by Kathleengranger
Summary: Retelling of Catching Fire from Peeta's point of view. Prologue is from Post Mockingjay setting. "Haymitch is wrong. We don't have to practice speaking. She doesn't speak, she kisses." I do not own The Hunger Games nor do I own the cover image. I found it on pinterest and thought that this is sweet.
1. Chapter 1

"You look hideous," I hear a woman laughs from behind as I try to fix my hair on the mirror. As I see her, her emerald green dress graciously touches the floor. Without turning her way, I chuckle. Of course I do. What is she expecting? Surgically altered lips? Flat stomach? At least I shaved. I look to the mirror, and I find her standing beside me, looking gorgeous as always. Her eyes are the color of rainy day, and her gaze are as warm as a cup of steaming hot tea. She looks at me in disbelief, as if we were world apart. While actually, we've spent nearly 30 year together. "You don't want to joke about my look, Mam," I warn her. She grins widely, like a moron, then she tiptoe a little to kiss my cheek and leaves the room.

I look to the mirror once more, to make sure of everything. I stare into the eyes of a man who was once holds a demon he could not conquer. They are blue, the eyes and they are wrinkled. The hair that was once blond is turning white. I also notice some difference in what were once muscular arms. The muscles are deterorating. I am getting old. As well as she, the woman who laughed at my condition. I button up my shirt and try to put on the tie. I'm bad at wearing ties.

Now, I know you hate spoiler, but you will eventually understand that the best people are extremely inquisitive. Curiosity often gets the best of them. It is not bad, although I shall say I see not much good in it either. I tell you this. We end well. We live happily. And we will continue to do so.

"Dad? What took you so long?" my daughter shows up in the doorway, she frowns just like an adult. Her lips curled. Her hair is the color of coal, dark and in some way reminds me of silk. "Won't you help me with this dear?" I answer her question with another question. Reluctantly she walks towards me. I kneel before her and she stretches out her skinny arm towards my tie._ Once upon a time, she was just a dream._ With her capable hands, she manages to make me look more presentable, as now the crumpled tie looks neatly done. I look into her eyes, and, as if on cue, she leans in and let me kiss her forehead. Then she runs downstairs. Her back shirt is untucked, which recall the thought of a young girl whose smile melts one of the toughest heart I've ever known.

I make my way out of the room, my hand touches the cold metal knob as I close the door, and I go downstairs, where all the cheerful background noise comes from.

Once upon a time, this house was so quiet, that every creak on the floor will count as cheerful noise.


	2. Part 1 : Ch 1

**I do not own any of the character I am using in this fanfiction. They belong to Suzanne Collins. Her writing makes me want to be both kind and brave, and so I try to write Peeta's version of Catching Fire. Oh, and English isn't my mother tongue so I apologize for every grammatical error and typos. Follows and Reviews are greatly appreciated. Thank you for reading!**

Part 1 : The Spark

1

I roll the dough on the flour dusted table, then carefully dust my own hands. The kitchen is warm but my fingers are cold, the sign of anxiety creeping in me. Two of five ovens are burning, the whole place smells like caramelized sugar and butter. Not very far from where I stand, there are piles of dishes undone. Underneath me, floors are unclean. This place never change. The kitchen has already look like this since I'm old enough to help. I'm standing in front of a big metal table where we roll and knead the dough, across me is a dining table where the whole family eats. On the walls above the table is a beaten calendar with stains of dried batter on each corner. I eye the date. Today is the day.

My whole family are resting. I'm tired to the bone but I cannot sleep. My mother allowed me to use my time in a beneficial way. By now I've make more breads than usual. More breads mean more money. That's the logic.

As the sun begins to shine through the window, I feel more stress than I ever had since I came back. My arms are aching. I have some burns in both of my hands that still sting. I don't even bother to put an oinment on them.

"You should go home," I hear my father speaks from the dining table. Now there's a soft smell of coffee in the air. "No, I'll finish this one first," I reply, still kneading the dough. My knuckle feels numb, but I keep going. The heat radiating from the oven doesn't help with my body temperature.

Suddenly, I feel a steady pressure on my left shoulder. I stop kneading the dough. My father looks at me in the eyes and rubs my arms. He's never been the kind of man with much to talk about. I know what he wants so I go to the sink to wash my hands, remove the stained and burned apron and pick my jacket behind the door. I go to the mirror beside the calendar to comb my hair neatly and I bid him good bye.

"Peeta?" I hear him calling me as my hand has reached the door. I look toward him.

"For your friends," he says handing me a basket of breads. They smell fresh and buttery. I nod politely. "Thank you."

As I open the back door of the bakery, the cold air touches my face gently. Snow is falling delicately and the sun is up in the sky, faintly shining. My whole body shivers and I wrinkle my nose to the stench of the pigs. I walk over the light snow on the street, making my way through the merchant area toward the Victor Village.

"You're up early," I hear a familiar voice greets me from across the street. I turn my head towards the voice. It's Prim. She looks beautiful in a red winter coat made of leather. From a distance I could tell that she's wearing her gloves. I wish I have mine.

"You too," I reply, walking towards her.

"Big day, huh?" she asks. The wind blows lightly and during the same time, scent of rose permeates my nose. I nod and manage to come up with what I hope is an excited smile. We get close since I move in to Victor Village and her cat occasionally make its appearance in my doorway. "Is that for us?" she asked while looking at my basket.

"Yes, want some?" I ask her. She says no silently. When the wind blow lightly, her braided hair is dancing in the air and my freezing fingers are getting numb. More than before.

"Have you talk to her?" she asks again.

"No." She rolls her eyes and suddenly trying to kick the dirt. She tried very hard to talk me into talking to Katniss. I made no progress on it. Really. What am I supposed to say? Prim opens her mouth wanting to talk again, then she changes her mind.

"But I made friend with her lovely sister," I add.

She shots me a look and then we both laugh. It is a very good laugh, although it doesn't have the same effect it used to. A laughter usually would make me happy and relaxed but instead there are black flickers forming in my sight. I guess lack of sleep does that to people.

"See you around then," she says.

I nod in answer. She waves good bye and walks herself to the school. On the way to my house I drop in her house to deliver some of the baked goods. This has been the part of my routine since the last Hunger Games. Going to the bakery 5 days a week, distributing breads to Haymitch and Katniss, painting whatever it is my mind and sleep when I get too tired. Lovely isn't it?

Yesterday Effie called to tell me that they'll be coming at noon. Katniss must have been informed too because in a glance, her house looks nicer, neater. I walk to Haymitch's house to deliver the bread. I sigh a little, forming a thin layer of my breath in the air. It's snowing and I don't want to get sick.

When I get inside she's already here. I can tell because there's small flood here and there. I hear her saying my name from the dining room. "You should ask Peeta," she said.

"Asked me what?" I reply. She looks startled. Haymitch is all wet and the room is a total mess. He's still clutching the knife.

"Ask you to wake me without giving me pneunomia," he says. I put the bread carefully on the table and cut it. I glance towards Katniss for a while, thinking if I should or should not talk to her. I weigh down the thoughts briefly. I have to talk to her eventually.

"Would you like a piece?" I ask her. This is the first time I look straight into her eyes since the last games, but she's avoiding mine. Have I told you, that her eyes have the most beautiful color I've ever seen?

"No, I ate at the hob, but thank you," she replies politely. We're both stiff and unnatural.

"You're welcome," I say. I notice Haymitch is partly dry now. He squints his eyes and abruptly look to the other way when I caught him looking at me.

"Brr, you two have got a lot of warming up to do before the show."

We do. We need to work on whatever this is. Months have gone without talking to each other. We did not even acknowledge each other's existence. I was too heart broken and self conscious to start a proper conversation and she was in a state I know nothing about. Things are blurry because when I told her to tell me if she works it out, she never did work it out. Maybe she forgot. I never know if any of the hugs and kisses are artificial. Sometimes I feel like it is forced, but there are also time when I feel her sincerity. There was a time when I thought it is real.

It wasn't.

I hear her leaving the house and start to inhale deeply.

"Have you been holding your breath?" Haymitch asks. I shake my head, disagreeing. He looks at me in disbelief, then shaking his own head.

"What a fool," he says, leaving me in his dining room with all the mess they made.


	3. Part 1 : Ch 2

**A short note : I'm sorry for taking too long to upload a new story. I am currently struggling with a mental breakdown and confusion. As always when things like this happen, I write. Thank you for taking time to read this.**

The smell of brewing pot tea fills the entire lobby. I walk to my kitchen and pour the tea to one of the cup set that Effie bought for me. Quite a moderate size and pink colored, just like Effie on the day of the reaping. Now I am sitting in my fancy living room, waiting for my prep team to come.

I sigh gratefully as the warmth of the tea touches my lips.

"I hope I don't disturb your deep thought," I hear a familiar voice comes from the doorway. Portia leans her back to the wall beside me. I did not hear her come in, not even the rest of the prep team who are now smiling widely at me.

"I don't mind," I smile to her. In my opinion, she looks very strange in the long lashes made of bird feathers and the stroking red hair, but underneath all the fake stuffs, she is naturally nice and sincere and original. I've never met a person who manages to distinct herself from the rest of us. Especially in the Capitol.

The prep team are called upstairs, to the bathroom, while Portia suggests herself a cup of tea. They do everything they need to do. Everything they did the last time we met. When I start to ignore them, they gossip about stuffs that is going on in the Capitol and the latest fake lashes trend. I let them chit chat a little and sometimes make a funny comment to some particular things.

This goes very well, until the girl, Carleen, asks me about Katniss. At first, I make a neutral judgment about her. That she is happy, alive and well, living three houses away from me. But Carleen starts to talk about how envious it is to live as a lover victor, living few houses away, while she has to work her whole relationship with her boyfriend because her parents know nothing about him. The worse is he lives very far from her and they have to make a living. They barely meet with each other. _But don't they love each other?_ The idea of which is which is getting to my nerve, but I push that aside. Instead, I manage another light question.

"Lucky, aren't we?" I ask her.

"Very." she replies as she hands the towel to the other boy, Seth. They put me to the bath robe and escort me to the bedroom. Inside, a matching suit and a coat is presented on the bed. They are red, the same color as the one they put me in last year in the Capitol. I put them on and walk to the mirror, analyzing myself. I comb my hair the way I did at the reaping and walk myself out.

"You look good," I hear Portia says as I walk down the stairs. Her hands are crossed in front of her chest, she looks at me delightfully. "What did you expect?" I ask her as I reach the lower ground. She laughs a little. We go to the kitchen where the others are. They are eating the frosted cookies and pour themselves some tea. It looks like they have a good time.

Me too, actually. This house is usually quiet, and I'm not use to quietness. I grow up in a house with two older brother and a Mother who has a tendency of speaking loudly, I used to sleep with some ranting, or the sound of my eldest brother singing. He sings awfully, for your information.

Singing. That certainly brings back to Katniss whose voice is fascinating. Even to the birds. "Peeta," Dragging me back to the present, Portia calls me from the front door. "These guys want to look to your paintings and the ones you're bringing for the tour." She points to two cameraman who's both broad-shouldered. I nod and gesture them to the study where I paint. They ask me questions and I need to answer them to the camera.

"Now." One of them snaps his fingers. The other one starts asking question.

"How did you learn to paint? Everything here look extremely beautiful,"

"I didn't, actually. I frost the cakes on the bakery once and my mother was so pleased, since then I was always the one doing the frosting. I think there's a connection."

"When did you discover your love of painting?"

"I don't recall, but I guess I knew it since I was very young,"

We keep the good work for like five more questions when the man gestures the other one to ask only one more question. He stares at the paintings for a while before questions me one more time.

"Looking at your paintings, I cannot help but smile. My last question is, why is Katniss everywhere?" I laugh a little.

"In case you forgot, we're madly in love," I answer.

When they are done, one who interviewed me says this.

"You must've loved her a lot." He smiles and then both of them leaves the room.

"I must have," I say to myself in silence. I wish I don't love her that way though.

I come out of the study when Portia hangs up the phone then looks at me, observing me. She takes the powder out of Carleen's box then dabs a little of it to my face. My nose wrinkles in disgust. It burns your nostrils.

"Good to go," she says and shoos me to the doorway. The door swings open and I'm being pushed out.

She's at her front door. The girl whose eyes remind me of rainy days of Spring. I have no trouble seeing her although it's snowing heavier than before. She is wearing a coat. Her hair is braided like how it was on reaping day, nine months ago. Earmuffs cover her ears and her nose is getting reddish because of the weather. She smiles, in a way I've never seen before and starts to run towards me. I try to catch her but my artificial leg disagree. We fall into the snow.

There, in the snow and the flashing lights, we kiss. I kiss her back. I always kiss her back. Her lips are warm against the cold air. Haymitch is wrong. We don't have to practice anything. She kisses.


	4. Part 1 : Ch 3

**Hello ****J**** Taking a few seconds of your time to tell you this. You are awesome. When I first uploaded the story I didn't expect any follower, I simply wanted to write about the undeniably amazing characters collins made. But then 2 people followed me and I remembered jumping and smiling the whole day. It was usually me myself and I and suddenly someone wants to read the story. I am quoting the queen, J.K Rowling, that no story lives unless someone wants to listen. And although it is only a fanfiction, one in so many, I still write with the thought that there are 6 people who will read this. Thank you very very much. I love you, I hope I can improve the quality of my writing and I hope you enjoy this. **

3

It's time for lunch already when I wake up. The light of the sun penetrates through the curtain of my window. My muscles are sore. I stretch a little just to release the tension. I close my eyes for a second, trying to take everything in. _I'm on my way to Eleven, and I need to eat._

"How are you?" Cinna asks when I step into the dining room.

"Good," I smile. Cinna is probably the nicest and least fake person in the Capitol. He wears so little make up and probably does not alterate any of his feature. That must be why Katniss is so fond of him.

I am extremely hungry now, I feel like I could finish all three muffins at once. But I don't think I should, so I begin with that delicious gravy. "Did you sleep well?" I ask Haymitch. He doesn't answer. I think he's lost in thoughts.

Five minutes later the door slams open. Katniss enters the room. Her eye bags are gruesome, so is her temperament. She throws herself into the blue cushion next to Cinna. I can see that she clearly isn't in a good mood. Her lips are curled, slightly and that's how I can tell. Contrary to Katniss, Effie is ranting about the soft pillow she used the night before and the prep team are commenting on all the nice dishes served on the table. The weather outside seems nicer than district 12. The sky is slightly yellow. It's a wonderful view, comparing to the icy cold grey sky back home.

"Do you want to try this?" Portia asks, pointing at another dish with broccoli and shrimp.

"Of course,"

She hands over a plate towards me and I nod to thank her. The atmosphere is warm and light. _I am thankful for another day_. Just as this thought occurs, the trains stop. An attendant comes in with a flat expression on his face.

"I am here to inform you that the train should be fixed, therefore-"

"What should be fixed?" Effie interrupts.

"Some part of the machine don't function well, so we're taking a break-"

"A break?" Cinna asks. The attendant nods.

"There will be an hour break, sir, mam, "

"Goodness, don't you know how five minutes delay will affect the whole time schedule?" Effie looks at the attendant sharply. The poor young man nods in apology then excuse himself out of the room. The only person disturbed is Effie.

And Katniss. She has that lethal look.

Effie doesn't seem to notice so she starts pulling out a lot of paper from her lap. I know those papers because I read them, the night before. I also wrote some of them, the speech. She reads them out loud, trying to make everybody thinks of what shall be removed so we can meet the big man in time. Cinna and Portia do their best to help, but we all know, Effie is capable of thinking and making her own decision. In fact, any suggestion will be brushed of the table.

Effie Trinket loves to be in charge.

"I'm sure we'll get there in time," I try to assure her. It's really isn't a big deal. But I know Effie. She likes grand things. If there is no grand things, she will make things go big.

"You don't know Peeta, there's a lot of pressure…" and I don't even bother to hear the rest of her argument. She'll stop at some point, knowing she could not change anything. Effie's talking while the others has stopped listening.

For a while, there's only her voice in the air. Until..

"No one cares Effie!" Katniss suddenly yells at her. That lethal look has just vanished from her eyes. She swallows hard then says, harshly, "Well, no one does!"

She is wrong. Effie cares. But I'm not gonna say it. Her exploding is bad enough. She stands up and tries to open the door by harshly pulling the door to the left. She shouldn't have. Now the alarm goes on. Not a pleasant sound. Everyone at the table watch her go in silence. Effie looks at me asking for some explanation.

"I think she's just tired," is all I say. No one says a word. Effie looks confused and troubled. Just then Haymitch is about to stand, but he is not sober enough so I volunteer.

I find her almost immediately. She's walking with no direction towards the sunlight. It's amazing there's a sunlight in the middle of January. I watch her for a while before she drops herself on the ground.

I get out of the train. I realize it's as warm as the beginning of summer. Green leaves, yellow sky, humid air.

"I'm not in the mood for a lecture," I hear her say as I get closer. I wonder if my walk is as loud as she implied last year.

"I'll try to keep it brief,"

She looks at me and for a second, I think there's ghost of a smile on her lips. But I'm not so sure. "I thought you were Haymitch," she says.

"No, he's still working on that muffin. Bad day, huh?" I ask. She looks at my artificial leg then turn away.

"It's nothing," she murmurs. I look around and notice that there's no one but us out here. The train will not move in the next 40 minutes so I think this time will be a good time to tell her about what's been weighing me down. If she wants to argue without anyone listening, there will be plenty enough time to do that. So I take a deep breath.

"Look Katniss, I've been wanting to talk to you about the way I acted on the train," She looks at me by now. No. She's staring at me.

"I mean the last train, the one that brought us home. I knew you had something with Gale. I was jealous of him before I even officially met you. And it wasn't fair to hold you for anything that happened in the Game. I'm sorry."

There. I said that. Something flashes in her face. Anger? Confusion? Astonishment? I can't tell. Finally, she stops staring at me. She stares at the weed instead. "I'm sorry too," she says. It's a surprise she doesn't argue.

I want to joke and tell her that she should. But I think it will be better if I don't push my luck. Instead, I tell her the truth. Like a real gentleman.

"There's nothing for you to be sorry about. You were just keeping us alive. But I don't want us to go on like this. Ignoring each other in real life and jump into the snow everytime there's a camera around." I pause. Thinking about what I'm going to say next. She doesn't seem to notice though.

"So, I thought if I stopped being so," I pause again. She's still looking at me. "You know, wounded, we could take a shot at just being friends," Again I see a ghost of a smile on her lips. It only lasts for 2 seconds.

"Okay," she answers. I let go all the tension I've been enduring in the past 15 minutes.

"So what's wrong?" I ask her. Instead of answering she looks at the weeds and starts doing strange things. Again, I don't want to push it but I am not stopping at weeds. So I continue.

"Let's start with something more basic. Isn't it strange that I know you'd risk your life to save mine…" I try to think. She's still doing strange thing with the weeds. "But I don't know what your favorite color is?"

Now, she smiles for real. "Green. What's yours?"

"Orange,"

"Orange? Like Effie's hair?" She asks in disbelief. I wonder what's Gale's answer if she asks him his favorite color.

"A little bit more muted, more like.." I picture my favorite sugar frost back in the bakery, trying to match the tone with something she's familiar with. "Sunset,"

She closes her eyes. Her mouth is slightly apart, and she's smiling. It feels great to talk to her again.

"You know everyone's always raving about your painting. I feel bad I haven't seen them" she says.

"Well, I've got a whole train car full," I say as I rise. I offer her my hand and surprisingly she takes it. "Come on,"

We walk back to the train hand in hand. It feels both weird and natural to hold her hand again. At the door she says that she needs to apologize to Effie first

.

"Don't forget to lay it on thick," I tell her. We go back to the dining table. Katniss says she's incredibly sorry and Effie takes that very well. After that I lead her to another train that contains my paintings. I wonder how she will react to them. At first her expression goes blank, but then, slowly, I see recognition on her face. She observes all of my visible paintings in no less than 10 seconds. It makes me nervous.

"What do you think?" I ask.

"I hate them," Honest answer. "All I do is go around trying to forget the arena but you've brought it back to life. How do you remember these things so exactly?" she asks.

"I see them every night," I answer. I see them every single night, even on my extremely tiring days. I look into her eyes and I see sympathy. She must've had them too.

"Me too. Does it help? To paint them out?" Her voice is now softer. I shrug.

"I don't know. I think I'm a little less afraid of going to sleep at night. Or I tell myself I am. But they haven't gone anywhere."

"Maybe they won't." she says. "Haymitch's haven't"

I shake my head. "No. But for me it's better to wake up with a paint brush than with a knife in my hand."

"So you really hate them?" I add. Without hesitation she says, "Yes. But they are extraordinary. Really." Then she turns away.

"Want to take a look at my talent? Cinna did a great job on it." I laugh.

"Later."

And then I realize that we're almost arrive to district 11. I'm excited. I have never been outside 12, so I guess being a victor has a positive side. I get to see more than coal.

"Come on. We're almost to district Eleven. Let's go take a look at it." I tell Katniss. She agrees quietly, so we go to the last car on the train. It's wonderful. Eleven is different. The fence is higher, way higher than the ones at 12. There are watchtowers. There are guards. But there are also beautiful things like fields, like wild flower. Like the sun that shines on a supposedly cold month.

"Well, that's something different," I say. In a distance I see trees, with people working, harvesting. Up close I see houses, although I'm not even sure if it's called houses. Eleven is so big because the train is still going but there seem to be no end.

"How many people do you think live here?" I ask. She shakes her head. We don't know. I bet there are a lot of them. Everyone is working and I cannot help but compare the life here to the life in 12. We have our own hardships, of course, but the kids can still have fun. Here, every capable hands shall be working. I think about how unfair this is so I stop.

We get ready for what Effie refers to as a busy busy day. I've prepared my speech months before and I know I will be fine in front of everyone. It's Katniss I'm worried about. I see her in the last minute before we head to the verandah. She looks gorgeous in that ginger autumn dress. Cinna really does his job very well. I take her hand once we're standing side by side. She looks tense.

"Big smiles!" Effie says while pushes us out. I try to walk with such confident, but when I see Rue's family my mind goes to the image of her and the white flowers. I don't think I should be adding more sadness to the family so I begin my speech. People listens. They do. But their eyes are not on me, they're on Katniss who tries to be as calm as possible. I end my speech with a statement that makes people gasp. It's something I've been contemplating since the interview with Caesar. It's something I've been thinking of since I got home, the what ifs. I look at Katniss. I hope she knows what I'm thinking at the moment.

She smiles widely then kisses me. The mayor takes over, presenting a big plague and a bouquet of flowers for each of us. I get lost in the beautiful colors of the flowers when I hear Katniss yells. What now?

"Wait! Wait please," I watch her from where I stand. Her hands are slightly shaking.

"I want to give my thanks for the tributes of District 11. I only spoke to Thresh once. Just long enough for him to spare my life." The crowd goes silent. I can hardly hear the sound of the wind.

"I didn't know him, but I always respected him. For his power. For his refusal to play the Games on anyone's term but his own. The Careers wanted him to team up with them from the beginning, but he wouldn't do it. I respected him for that." I can feel the shifts in the atmosphere. I look at Katniss. Her eyes falls to Rue's family.

"But I feel as if I did know Rue, and she'll always be with me. Everything beautiful brings her to mind. I see her in the yellow flowers that grow in the Meadow by my house. I see her in the Mockingjays that sing in the trees. But most of all, I see her in my sister Prim. Thank you for your children. And thank you all for the bread."

I wonder if she will ever know the effect of herself. I wonder if she noticed the crowd that went silent. I wonder if she understands her own power. I stand still for a few moment, unaware of the crowd.

"Are you alright?" I ask her after the applause has ended and we're walking in. She might never know her own effect. But I do. And I will do anything to protect her.

"Just dizzy. The sun was so bright." She answers. "I forgot my bouquet."

"I'll get them" I try to assure her. "I can," she says. I follow her outside as she's trying to fit both the bouquet and the plague in her two litte hands.

I hear gunshot. I think I'm mistaken.

But then I see the old man dies and I know I'm not.


End file.
